


Oh Heavens and Stars Above

by DarkestHeir



Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Requited Love, just something soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 14:24:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19871092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkestHeir/pseuds/DarkestHeir
Summary: Joxter finds himself falling in love with the gentle laugh of a certain troll.





	Oh Heavens and Stars Above

**Author's Note:**

> ???? blame it on discord.  
> I love them all, I think theyre rather cute.  
> also moomin is somewhere of 17-19  
> why the low age of 17? projection

Joxter arrives in Moominvalley, mischievous lights dancing behind his eyes, backpack strapped to his back. He was singing as he came into the valley, deep voice bouncing in a magnificent echo that the birds would speak of for a few days. Dark hair, slowly graying at the edges, brushed back into his hat, scruff kept to his jawline and giving his face the keen edge of a criminal. 

There are bouts of confusion from the residents, Joxter? Here? Snufkin had gazed at him curiously with pipe in hand. Undoubtedly takes after his father that one. 

He decides to stay for the spring, settling for sleeping in trees, occupying odd ends of Moominhouse, or sleeping next to Snufkin’s tent instead of sleeping within his own. Just in case his tent is setup anyways at the fear of spring showers.

No one complains, an extra plate is set on occasion, and all is well.

However, Joxter wouldn’t be Joxter if he didn’t love bothering people, pressing their buttons on occasion. So he bothered his boyhood friend, batting stuff off his desk, flicking his hat off, and Moominpappa glares at him every single time without fail. All in good fun, Joxter knew when to stop, he could stare right through people in a sense. 

Or maybe he didn’t know, or maybe he didn’t care. 

It started at dinner, Joxter helping Moominpappa with one of his tales, one of their adventures and he makes a joke. The joke is dark, a bit disturbing, and he can feel almost everyone cringe as soon as it escapes his mouth. Snufkin swats at him, chastising him like he was the father in the relationship between them both and Joxter can merely laugh. No dark jokes was just fine with him.

Some else laughs, though, breaking the awkward silence with giggles from the farther end of the long table.

And Joxter isn’t quite sure but his heart does something he had long forgotten it could do as his blue eyes capture Moomin’s own, pupils dilating. He chuckles along with Moomin, the laughter dying down as the boy smiles back at him, hand still up to his mouth from the attempt to suppress the cute laughter. 

_What a remarkable Moomin._

Moominpappa takes more of his food into his mouth, swallowing before looking towards his son at the other end, “Moomin please don’t encourage him.” 

Moominmamma keeps eating, everyone else nodding at the table, even Snufkin which surprised him just a tad. Joxter watches Moomin’s ears fall back against his head, looking embarrassed. Joxter doesn’t like that look, not at all and makes it known as he turns to the troll next to him, “come now Moomin! Your son has a fantastic sense of humor; you must encourage that!” 

He looks back to the younger troll, who is silently sitting there with his ears pulled back in shame, “You have remarkable tastes, boy.” 

He watches Moomin’s eyes go wide and shine at the compliment, and if he stared hard enough he could see the light blush dusting Moomin’s face. “Thank you...” was Moomin’s reply, ears perking back up and a faint smile on his face.

Joxter was satisfied, tail swishing behind him, he can recognize the incredulous look he receives from Moominpappa in the corner of his eye as he continues to eat.

The dinner moves along, more dark jokes slipping out of him. Everyone else dislikes it; Snufkin making it loud and clear that they’re not very appropriate so Joxter teases him for being a stickler for rules, and Snufkin glares, “There is a difference between rules and being polite, Joxter.” 

He stops...eventually, but only after Moomin had laughed a few more times, Joxter’s heart clenched at the sound, a blush creeping up his neck underneath his scarf.

So it began there. 

Joxter begins to hang around Moominhouse a bit more than one would typically expect. His son is curious, Snufkin glancing at him through the smoke of their pipes as they sit at night before heading to bed. Joxter says nothing of the matter, simply searching the trees in the distance for something he cannot find. Eyes lost and far away.

His friend looks at him curiously too as he tags along with Snufkin to the house every chance he gets, mouth foul with jokes that make Moominpappa cringe and Snufkin hide in his hat. Joxter won’t lie about why he does it, he has no need to lie about it. 

He likes hearing the young Moomin laugh. Such a familiar feeling.

What could it be?

Joxter continues to live his life in the spring, extending his stay into the scorching summer of the valley.

Partially suffering as he realizes that the heat isn’t his forte, abandoning his smock in favor for the old button ups he packs and rolling up the sleeves.

The sun is annoying, the flies attack his fruit, and yet he stays in the valley. Snufkin is more curious now, and yet no questions are asked. Joxter prefers it, not sure of the answers himself.

He occasionally finds Snufkin consulting the cards, troubled or confused by what they say.

Joxter isn’t sure what they mean.

Moominpappa catches him by the arm as he goes to leave one day after some coffee. He had taken shelter in the house as Snufkin and Moomin went off an adventure. The house is calm and colder than the outside after all. 

“stop being so vulgar around my son Joxter, he has no need for such things,” and Joxter grins. 

Neither a yes or no. Moominpappa knows and doesn’t appreciate it, it seems.

Joxter got increasingly more vulgar. Moominpappa had hoped he would have listened for once but well.

Joxter was a mumrik.

So he leans in close to whisper jokes to Moomin as he bothers Snufkin, and Moomin flushes pink and laughs until tears form at the corners of his blue eyes. 

His jokes make Moominpappa flush in distress as Moomin laughs, and Joxter could care less for the shamed look he gets from his son. Muttering of never bringing him along again and yet does so once more.

He invades Moominhouse and pets Moomin on the passing, lifting his snout with a finger as a closing line to a joke on one occasion. His friend isn’t happy, but Moomin is, with shining eyes and laughter never any less sweet.

Oh.

Oh my.

“What a remarkable Moomin…” and it slips out one day, loud and clear. Joxter isn’t sure why it does. Maybe the warm feeling in his chest made him soft. Staring at Moomin as the boy talks with his friends, so relaxed and happy. 

Moomin had caught his eye in the moment before the words slipped from his mouth. Eyes a bit shocked to see Joxter looking his way, slowly softening and smiling back at him with a wave. The fading sun pushing his white fur into a lovely shade of pink, the curls of his fur, so soft he knows. From the brief moments he touched Moomin on the shoulder or the space between his ears, underneath his chin. 

Snufkin looks at him too, eyes searching his father's face for something. Joxter has a clue of what it might be.

His son’s puzzled stare is the least of his problems now, as another one had a cold feeling running up his neck. 

Moominpappa stares at him, he can feel the brown eyes digging into the side of his head as they eat outside, the summer weather cooling down as night licked the darkening sky, clouds creating unreachable art. A terrific time for family and friends to eat together, be around each other, be happy. He stares back at Moominpappa, and they say nothing to each other.

As much as it pains Joxter to do so, he distances himself from Moominhouse including Moomin himself. Unable to get any closer with the looming threat in his friends' eyes, knowing Joxter much too well to allow him frequent any longer. 

It didn’t stop him; rules don’t stop mumriks so easily after all as he shambles up Moomin’s ladder. There was always a work around. The window was open, and no one was in. Briefly he recalls when he got Mymble gifts, shiny useless things he thought she might like in order to win her heart over as he places something of similar caliber onto Moomin’s desk ever so gently. Something from his travels. Hoping that Moomin understand, no note, no explanation. Just a small statue from his travels that he made, overlooking the sea on evening many years ago, little details pressed with knives and needles in the soft wood.

One day, on the branches of a tree he frequents, he discovers a wreath very similar to the ones Snufkin has on occasion. The wreath is up high, much higher than the troll is surely able to climb, but he knows Moomin’s work when he sees it. From the way the flowers curl around one another, delicately placed together to craft a beautiful piece of artwork. Certainly made in the fields of flowers not too far from Moominhouse. He wears it with hidden pride, donning on his hat as he naps and walks about, Snufkin glancing at him and smiling to himself.  
  
How curious.

Snufkin is staring into the fire one night, pipe in hand. He tells Joxter of the accumulation of things Moomin has gained, and how he treasures them so. Snufkin wondering out loud where they had come from, how strange.

Joxter knows Snufkin knows. 

Yet Snufkin just carefully looks at him as he smiles to himself, eyes closed, half of his face warmed by the heat of the fire. 

A steady collection of wreaths are gained and are slowly tossed away into the river as they die, beautiful patterns of colors. Gradually fading and only coming back just as magnificent as ever, no two quite alike.Snufkin gets them too, but Joxter's are grander. So carefully crafted. They attract the bees on occasion and he loves them just the same. As the bees take their fill of the pollen on his hat, drifting off to spread it about, Joxter simply smiles to himself. He imagines the young trolls fingers deftly working, to make the crown. He cannot imagine much else beside the soft fingers, but a part of him hopes they mean what he believes they do.

Eventually, Joxter runs out of things to give, his heart pinning still and unsatisfied with the responses he has gotten. So he lays and naps in places Moomin frequents, his lazy afternoons spent trying to get Moomin to join him alone. To relax and enjoy the sun’s overwhelming heat with him. In the flower fields, by the beach, blocking the path of everyone as he lays on the small wooden bridge. 

It happens after some time has passed almost midsummer, and Joxter thanks whatever allowed it to be so.

Luck, destiny ...Snufkin. 

  
Joxter lays there, and a sweet familiar voice he has only heard from the distance for some long weeks has him sitting up frantically. His hat falling off his face from where it shielded him from the sun as he stares up at Moomin. Joxter’s eyes go wide in excitement and his tail threatens to wag as he tries to calm down his heart. Moomin’s hands are fidgeting in front of him. His own sky colored eyes avoiding looking at Joxter, a small blush on his face as he says hello. Moomin inquired if he has seen Snufkin, that they were supposed to meet here and Joxter ponders on what he could possibly gift to his son for this. 

“I’m afraid I haven’t Moomintroll,” he says, voice a sigh, “however you are more than welcome to sit with me and wait.”  


Joxter doesn’t expect Moomin to take the invitation, but now Moomin is sitting next to him and overlooking the flowers dance in the breeze with the older mumrik. Their arms are close to touching as Joxter begins the conversation easily, trying to ease the nerves in the air that hang around the troll.

He talks of some of the gifts that had been placed on Moomin’s desk, telling him stories of the items he acquired as if Moomin didn’t have them all. Their detail, their stories, and how long he has had them with him.

A few jokes slip his mouth while he regales his stories and Moomin laughs, oh how he missed that laugh. Certainly a higher pitch than when Moomin talked, so bubbly and adorable it makes Joxter’s heart do that strange thing again. He is absolutely enchanted by the happiness that lives inside Moomin and the way that it reflects in his eyes.

They laugh for what must be an hour or two, sharing stories with no one left to disturb them. He begins flirting subtly, offering compliments and making moomin blush as he giggles away.

Joxter tucks a finger under Moomin’s snout to make a joke as he did before. A joke that left his mind as soon as Moomin looked back at him. His eyes are darting around Moomin’s face, searching for an answer and Moomin just stares back at him, eyes shining and pupils dilated. 

So they both close their eyes as Moomin bumps his face, nuzzling him as Joxter places a kiss against the fur there. A moomin kiss.

When they pull back, Moomin’s blush is visible and deep, a lovely red color. Joxter’s eyes are shining, a warm grin gracing his face as he pulls Moomin in for a hug. Moomin gasps as he does so, a purr fluttering out from Joxter’s chest that surprise the troll. Joxter is unable to see it as he holds Moomin so close, head tucked into his neck, but Moomin struggles to speak. 

Moomin’s mouth going slack as a warm feeling surges through him, it’s _love_ and Moomin knows it. The way it warms every nook of his body as he hugs Joxter back. How do people hold this much love within them? It’s overflowing and too much to keep inside! Such a lovely feeling, hands clenching into Joxter’s shirt. 

Joxter can’t help but repeat it; his mind warm and soft with emotion, “what a remarkable Moomin...” Moomin hears it, face flushed so deep it felt like it might burn off any second, oh by the stars.  
  
Moomin pulls back from the hug, giving a nervous shake, “Joxter?”and _oh._ Joxter is beaming at him with such a smile that it makes his heart overflow again, he wants to kiss him again so badly so he does. His smaller hands gently grabbing at Joxter’s cheeks and bringing him in for a kiss, pressing his snout against Joxter’s face and the older mumrik’s purr only grows. They nuzzle each other face again and again. 

Until Joxter tilts his head back a bit and presses their lips together.

Moomin jumps a bit, Joxter’s hand on his cheeks now as he slowly pressed their lips together. 

Snufkin had told him of it and tries to mirror what Joxter does ever so slowly, heart twisting itself into a few more knotts as they alternate between kisses. A press of lips, a nuzzle, another lean as Joxter moves his lips against Moomin’s. Small sighs escaping both of them until their kisses slow into nothing, still holding one another, They fingers both curling and uncurling as they embrace one another. 

Moomin officially pulls back enough to hold Joxter’s eyes, both of them sharing the softest look they have ever seen in each other's eyes. Joxter watches Moomin take a breath and brace himself. Moomin is so ready to confess, not realizing that Joxter has told him a thousand times over. The gifts, the slow blinks, the gentle touches and caresses when they had been in his house around family, ever so patient. 

“I love you!” Moomin means it so strongly and yet it still come out so quietly, stuck in his throat it seemed but Joxter didn’t mind. His heart was soaring and he scoops Moomin up into his arms again in one smooth motion. 

He presses another kiss onto Moomin’s lips, and he’s laughing. Moomin can’t help but admire the lines on the corners of Joxter’s eyes as every time the mumrik smiles as Joxter laughs, “and I you, Moomin.” 

The night is back as it licks at the sky, shading the two in a wonderful orange sunset as Moomin laughs with Joxter, ever so delighted. As they calm down, they lay down next to one another, staring at each other with love filled eyes until Joxter drifts off. Moomin cannot help himself as he picks a few flowers and tucks them against Joxter’s slowly graying temple. He quietly tucks himself into Joxter’s chest, squeaking a bit as Joxter’s arm slings itself over his body and grips him a bit tighter.

Such a lovely evening, such lovely stars.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! if you find any way to improve or adjust it please tell me!


End file.
